Uninterrupted Sleep
by catthegreat
Summary: Masrur just wants one full night's sleep. Is that too much to ask?
1. In which no one wakes him up

**AN: **_Multi-chapter crack fic as requested by my friend. Prompt: Masrur is asexual and just wants to sleep but various different characters keep preventing that by having sex with him. Will eventually cross dimensions. Updates will be sporatic. Rated M for safety._

**_Warning: dubious consent (thanks to the guest who mentioned it; I knew I was forgetting something)_**

* * *

><p>It happened every time Sinbad returned from a diplomatic mission: Ja'far would stomp down the corridor to greet him, and they would get into a fight about the stupid decisions the king made this time. Masrur had learned long ago that it was best to avoid the king's private quarters for the next few hours after this happened. If the yelling didn't drive him nuts, the loud lovemaking following it certainly would.<p>

Since the disaster in Balbadd, the fights got worse. Sinbad would leave randomly to go "continue negotiations with Kou" – they all knew he was trying to find a weakness before the inevitable war – and take a different set of generals with him each time. He just never took Masrur or Ja'far, saying they needed to "stay and guard Sindria" instead. Masrur knew the fights between Sinbad and Ja'far wouldn't be so bad if the king would just _take them with him_, but did Sinbad ever listen to reason? Of course not. Instead he took Sharkkan and Pisti. (That one resulted in Ja'far giving Sinbad the silent treatment for nearly a week – a new record.)

And Masrur couldn't care less about their lover's spats. Really, he couldn't. But lately it had begun affecting _him_.

It all started three days into the record breaking silent treatment. Masrur had finished his evening meditation and was preparing for bed. After a long day of training – alone now that Morgiana had left with the others – he was looking forward to a good night's sleep. Just as the thought crossed his mind, there was a soft knock on the door.

He opened it to see an irritated looking Ja'far. Without a word, Masrur stepped back and let the white haired man in, hoping whatever he wanted wouldn't take long; as much as he liked and respected Ja'far, he was tired.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the former assassin started talking a mile a minute. "It's like he doesn't even think before he agrees to all these stupid 'treaties'! They're going to notice that he keeps coming back himself to change the contents instead of sending someone else! It's completely irresponsible…"

Masrur tuned him out, still standing next to the door despite how Ja'far was now pacing up and down making wild hand gestures. He stared longingly at his pillow, hoping against hope that all Ja'far needed was to vent his frustrations for a few minutes before he left him again in peace.

If only he could be so lucky.

"…And how could he let Pisti accept that little Kou bastard's proposal! We know they're all bad news, and that one is _particularly_ insane…"

At this rate, he would be lucky if Ja'far left before sunrise. He was in all-out ranting mode, and Masrur knew from experience that it was almost impossible to bring him down from that. He half considered leaving to find Sinbad, but the way the other general was playing with his knives wasn't promising.

"…Don't even get me started on Sharkkan's behavior! I received a damn _message_ from Princess Kougyoku about how he got into a fight with "our cute little Judal" and almost destroyed half the damn palace. _How_ Sin expects to pay that back is beyond me…"

This was starting to get ridiculous. Even Masrur's inhuman patience had a limit, and Ja'far and Sinbad's constant fighting was testing it.

"…Of course he expects me to do everything. He always expects me to do everything! What do I look like? Do I look like a _magi_ to you? Because I'm fairly sure even magi's can't pull money out of their asses –"

Masrur slammed his hand over Ja'far's mouth as the other man's pacing reached him again. The shock of it was enough to shut him up.

"Enough." He glared at Ja'far and felt the other's mouth slam shut before removing his hand.

Ja'far had the decency to look embarrassed. "Sorry."

How Sinbad calmed him down was a mystery.

"I haven't ever avoided Sin this long before," Ja'far remarked to the floor. "It's…it's weird." A light blush graced his cheeks, and Masrur put two and two together. He didn't need a sex drive to know what Ja'far meant.

They stood there silently while Masrur had an internal battle. He did care about Ja'far – the man was probably what Aladdin would call his "best friend" – but he didn't _care_ about Ja'far. And his friendship with the other only went so far. _But_ if it meant the man would leave him alone afterward, then it would be worth it. Right?

"If we do it, will you let me sleep?"

"HAH?!" Ja'far stared at him as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"I'm tired." Masrur said as if it explained everything. Which it did; Ja'far knew what all of Masrur's different expressions meant.

Seeing that the other was going through his own internal conflict involving the situation, Masrur moved toward his bed, stripping off his clothes as he went. (He slept naked anyway.) He collapsed face first onto his pillow, slowing his breathing and ignoring the other man still standing in the corner. Ja'far could take the offer or leave it; he really didn't care at this point.

As long as he could sleep, that is.

A slight dip in the mattress announced the result. "Are you sure?" Ja'far still sounded conflicted.

Masrur just grunted in response; it wasn't his job to make decisions. Either Ja'far would do it or not.

He felt a cold hand on his inner thigh and sighed internally. Hopefully this wouldn't take long. Masrur heard fabric rustling before feeling cold liquid land on his lower back. He turned his head around and saw Ja'far pouring something onto his hands from a small bottle. He closed his eyes again, not surprised that the other carried lube with him.

The good thing about Ja'far was how gentle he was. It was clear the other man was trying to make it as painless for Masrur as possible, and the redhead found himself falling asleep to a peaceful massage. There was a point in time the assassin seemed to think he should try to make it enjoyable for Masrur as well, and he had to turn around and glare at the other until he removed his hand from under the Fanalis' body.

Despite the strange sensation of something thrusting into him, Masrur drifted off again. He was almost completely asleep when a half scream of "Sin!" woke him back up. He ripped the pillow out from underneath himself and threw it over his head, trying to block out the sounds. But of course luck wasn't working in his favor. The screams increased in volume, and came at random intervals. All he wanted was sleep.

The assassin's weight disappeared from his body suddenly, but the grunting and panting didn't stop for another minute. With one final cry, Ja'far collapsed, jolting Masrur as he fell beside him. Masrur relaxed once more as the other's breathing calmed down slowly, and he realized it was finally over. They lay in silence for a few more minutes, and darkness began to claim Masrur once more. Fabric rustled faintly, and the bed dipped once more. Masrur heard a soft whisper of thanks before the door clicked softly. He sighed in relief as he fell asleep; it was unpleasant, but at least he would never have to do it again.

How very wrong he was.


	2. Sinbad remains celibate

After the incident with Ja'far repeated itself five times in the next three days, Masrur decided it was time to try a new strategy. As much as he liked his room and his bed, he wasn't attached enough to go through that torture a sixth time. His idea involved finding a new place to sleep every night – and even every nap; why Ja'far felt the need to come at him between meetings was beyond him. It wasn't like Sinbad's palace was lacking in bedrooms anyway.

His plan had worked for the past two nights, and he had high hopes for it to continue working a third – really, being able to evade an assassin like Ja'far this long was a feat in and of itself – but when he walked into his new bedroom, the presence of a certain purple haired monarch crushed them. Masrur hovered in the doorway, debating whether or not he should find a different room, when Sinbad spoke up.

"Ja'far's ignoring me," the king whined. Drunk, Masrur realized. Sinbad was drunk. In his room.

With an internal sigh, Masrur entered the room and closed the door behind him with a click. It looked like he was going to be stuck babysitting the king instead of sleeping.

"I don't know why he's so mad. Obviously I couldn't take the two of you; I need you here to run my country. What if something happened and we couldn't get back? Could you imagine what would happen if I left Yamraiha and Sharkkan in charge? They'd probably burn the island down!"

Masrur grunted in response, and began stripping for bed. The king had a point; if anyone should be left in charge of Sindria it was Ja'far. He wasn't sure why the assassin was still mad; surely he'd figured this out by now.

"I even tried telling him that but he just got mad and nagged me about getting a wife again."

He could always mention something about a gray hair. Sinbad didn't have any, but he was constantly worried about getting old. It could work to get the king out of his room. …Or it could backfire and Sinbad would never leave out of shame.

The king fell backwards onto the bed. "And I'm so _frustrated_."

Masrur had a bad feeling about this. He left his shorts on and sat next to Sinbad without saying anything. Maybe if they got it over with quickly, he could get some sleep. He still hadn't caught up on all the sleep he'd missed because of Ja'far.

Sinbad rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, gazing at Masrur under lowered eyelashes. The Fanalis realized belatedly that he was being seduced. He'd often seen the king gaze at women – and sometimes men – with this same expression before, but he'd never had it directed at himself. It wasn't going to work the way the other hoped, and unless Masrur acted quickly he was going to be in for some useless foreplay.

He flopped onto his stomach. "Do what you want." It was as much of an invitation as Sinbad was going to get. The other let out a sound that might've been a squeal as Masrur buried his face in the pillow. All he could hope for was that the king would be faster than Ja'far.

He wasn't. And it was _worse_, because Sinbad insisted on _talking_. Perhaps the people he normally slept with enjoyed having him whisper in their ears, but Masrur didn't. He didn't need a play-by-play on what Sinbad was doing; he was there. There was no way he was going to fall asleep to this.

When Sinbad finally finished – inside him! – Masrur almost breathed an audible sigh of relief. Finally, he could fall asleep without being disturbed. He would clean himself out in the morning, right now he just wanted to –

His thoughts cut off abruptly as Sinbad wrapped an arm around him and snuggled into his back. What was the king doing?

"Cuddling. That's normal after this kind of thing." Sinbad answered, and Masrur realized that in his irritation he'd spoken out loud.

He took a few calming breaths and tried to fall asleep, never mind that he'd never been able to sleep when sharing a bed before. This was bound to be a long night. Sinbad passed out within a few moments, and Masrur found himself wondering how anyone was able to sleep in a bed with him; he snored terribly.

Masrur spent the rest of the night wishing Ja'far had been the one to find him instead; at least he left after he was done. As if the snoring wasn't bad enough, the king kept hold of him like some kind of teddy bear, tightening his grasp whenever Masrur tried to slip out. If Sinbad weren't so obviously asleep, Masrur would've thought he was doing it on purpose. He had to forcibly shove himself away when the king stripped him of his remaining clothing and started pawing at him in his sleep. He spent the rest of the night failing at meditating and hoping the idiotic fight between the two men would stop soon.

To his great relief, the silent treatment Ja'far had been imposing on Sinbad ended two days later. He knew it had because when he went to find a new room to sleep in, he wandered too close to the king's side of the palace and _heard_ them. Masrur slept in his own room that night.

His relief was short-lived, however. The next night the king insisted on holding one of his ridiculously over-the-top parties, and Masrur was forced to attend. Normally, he didn't mind so much, but _normally_ he got a full night's sleep every night. He would've snuck out early, but Sinbad had slipped wine in Ja'far's drink and now both the king and the assassin were drunk out of their minds. Who knows what kind of trouble they'd get Sindria into if he just left them alone?

"I'm thinking I'm going to name my palace something," Sinbad spoke to the eight or so women latched to him.

Ja'far set down his glass too hard on the table and wine sloshed over the side. "'S probably somethin stupid like 'Sinpalace'."

Sinbad looked genuinely impressed. "Exactly! You know me so well Ja'far!"

Ja'far nodded sagely. "You always name things after yourself. 'S stupid."

"Is not! My name's great. Everyone should be named after me."

Ja'far snorted. "_That's_ stupid."

"No! Think of how great it'll be: Sinpalace, Sindria, Sinsea…Sinfar."

"You are not renaming me 'Sinfar'."

"Why not? It's a great name!"

"We have _talked_ about this, Sin. You can't just rename people to stake claim on them."

"But we're not talking about people; we're talking about you! And the palace!"

"Masrur, the king is clearly drunk. Will you take him to his quarters?" Ja'far turned to him as he spoke. Masrur restrained himself from mentioning that Ja'far was just as drunk as Sinbad, if not more so.

Sinbad threw his hand out dramatically. "No Sinrur! I can't leave the party yet; it's just getting started!" Masrur's eyebrow twitched. _Sinrur_?

"The party has been going on for _hours_. The rest of the generals left ages ago. This wouldn't be a problem if you finally settled down and chose a wife!"

"But I don't want a wife. Why have one woman when I can have them all?" At this, the women latched to Sinbad let out a collective squeal and cuddled closer to him than they had before. Ja'far's eyebrow twitched, and Masrur figured it was time to step in.

"Many of the guests have already left and the bonfire is almost out. Perhaps it would be best if we all retired." Ja'far and Sinbad both turned to stare at him as if they'd forgotten he was here. Again.

"Right you are, Sinrur." Sinbad stood up, pulling the women with him. "And retire we shall. Right ladies?" They giggled and blushed. "You're both welcome to join us of course."

Masrur was saved from having to speak again by Ja'far. "No thanks. We have better things to do than support your continued attempt to produce the most illegitimate heirs out of all the kings. Come on Masrur." The Fanalis let himself get tugged along by Ja'far, ignoring Sinbad's cries of "Sinfar! Sinrur!" behind them.

By the time Ja'far finally passed out – on top of him of course – it was sunrise. Masrur had a feeling he wouldn't be getting much more sleep in his bed and slipped out without waking the other. He meditated in the courtyard instead, enjoying the silence that came with early morning.

An hour or so later, Sharkkan walked outside and practiced his swordplay. The sound of the blade whistling through the air calmed Masrur, and he found himself drifting into a dreamless sleep. He wasn't sure how long he was out, but when he was awoken it was to a bright sun and the loud yell of: "Get back here! I am not legally changing my name to Sinfar! How did you even get these documents made so quickly?!" Ah, well. The peace was nice while it lasted.

* * *

><p><em>Next chapter: Judal<em>


	3. Masrur attends an orgy

_Judal's insults to Sinbad's intelligence is my favorite canon._

* * *

><p>Sinbad had picked a poor opponent in Ja'far when it came to legal matters. In a mere two weeks, Ja'far had managed to change his, and the other seven generals', names back to their original ones and outlawed the renaming of any person to 'Sin-something' unless approved by the person and at least 5 witnesses. That didn't stop Sinbad from <em>referring<em> to him as Sinfar, however.

And as amusing as it was – he might not look it, but Masrur did have a sense of humor – the Fanalis was glad the king and his first general were once again on speaking terms. After several more weeks of silence and uninterrupted sleep, Masrur finally stopped searching for new rooms every night and took naps in the library while Ja'far worked. The sound of parchment shifting was soothing, and the silence was never awkward or uncomfortable with Ja'far.

When Sinbad had first brought them to the new kingdom of Sindria, neither Ja'far nor Masrur had quite known what to do with themselves. For Masrur, he couldn't remember a time when he wasn't training or competing in the gladiator arena. And it was obvious to him that Ja'far felt just as lost whenever the king disappeared. When the opportunity to pick up the slack left by Sinbad's aversion to paperwork came up, Ja'far took it gratefully. Masrur, still unable to read or write at the time, contented himself with simply keeping the other company while he worked. It had been years since Masrur had last napped in the library with Ja'far; things had gotten too crazy in the more recent years.

But he should've known that the normality wasn't to last. The first sign that something was wrong arrived through his window in the middle of the night, shaking him roughly from his sleep. Masrur was an incredibly light sleeper, so it was a testament to how quiet this person was that they were able to get inside his room and shake him before he woke up. The Fanalis fully expected it to be Ja'far – the assassin was light on his feet – ready with fresh complaints about the king, but when his eyes finally adjusted to the light he saw he couldn't be further from the truth.

Standing in his room was none other than the Kou Empire's magi, Judal.

Sleep disappeared in an instant, and Masrur was on his feet ready to defeat the man, regardless of his own state of undress. But the magi just laughed.

"Relax, big guy, I'm not here to kill that stupid king today."

Even though he said that, Masrur didn't relax his stance.

Judal burst into laughter, covering his mouth with his hand. "You really do need to calm down; you're too stiff." Judal spun the wand between his fingers, walking to Masrur with an unnecessary swing of his hips. Having witnessed – more times than he would care to remember – women apply the same approach to Sinbad, it took him no time at all to identify that he was being seduced. Again.

"I know a good way to relieve some of that tension," the Magi was saying as Masrur returned his attention to the present.

"No."

That took the other by surprise. "No? But I haven't even given you my offer yet."

"You are an enemy of King Sinbad."

"I'm not here to play with Sinbad today. I want to play with you." And with that, Judal pulled out a piece of paper from his pants – Masrur wasn't even sure he had _pockets_ in there – and waved it back and forth in front of his face. "See?"

More out of irritation than anything else, Masrur grabbed the page. He may not have been the most literate of the generals, but he could understand enough to read what Judal was showing him. Scrolled on the paper in writing too sloppy to be Ja'far's, but easier to read than Sharkkan's, were the following words:

_For a good time: visit Masrur._

The Fanalis felt his eyebrow twitch. He managed to barely resist the urge to rip the paper into tiny pieces. Instead, he ground out: "where did you find this?"

"That ad?" Judal asked flippantly as he flopped down on Masrur's bed, creating a tiny tornado in his hand. "Who knows? They've been floating around almost everywhere lately. Whoops." The last was a reaction to the tornado flying off his palm into Masrur's armor, which clanked to the ground with a resounding clash.

"Get out." Ja'far always said not to pick on those younger, but Masrur was having a hard time coming up with reasons to follow that rule.

The magi rolled over, hanging his head off the side of the mattress to stare at Masrur upside down. "But I don't wanna. I'm bored. Play with me." He gave a grin that would've been wicked, had he not looked so ridiculous. "You won't regret it, I promise." Masrur highly doubted that.

He walked towards the bed, fully prepared to remove Judal by force, magi or not. But he had forgotten he wasn't wearing anything aside from his shorts, and his approach was met with a finger tracing its way up his stomach.

"I do like strong men," the magi was mumbling, "and you're one of the strongest. Physically, anyway. Maybe your king isn't _such _an idiot after all." Masrur wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but the next second Judal had managed to flip himself upright and was pressed against his chest, breathing against his neck. The general stood there, frozen and unsure how to act when the enemy of his kingdom was this close. He supposed he could try his hand at physically throwing the nuisance out of his room.

His luck always seemed to decrease exponentially in situations like this. The moment he brought his hands up to grab the other, the teen smiled, and in a flash Masrur was lying on his back with the other straddling him. "I knew you'd come around eventually," Judal purred into his ear.

This was not happening. This could _not_ be happening. It was one thing to let Sinbad or Ja'far have their way with him (they never expected reciprocation!) but if the way the other was grinding against him was any indication, Masrur was expected to _top_ and that was just unacceptable. Not only did it feel like a betrayal to his king and country, but it was also something he had no experience – or interest – in.

But the other, blissfully unaware of the thoughts in Masrur's head, continued to do…whatever it was he was doing. This had to stop, soon. If it went on any longer, the magi would figure out he wasn't interested and then who knew what would happen. They would probably have to go to war against Kou or something.

Making up his mind, Masrur placed his left hand on Judal's stomach and _pushed_, throwing the other back into the wall. There was a dull thud as he hit, followed by a squeak as his back slid down the wall. The two of them stared at each other, wearing identical expressions of shock, in silence for a whole minute before the magi stood up slowly.

"You bastard." Judal wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he spoke.

Masrur knew immediately that throwing the magi of the Kou Empire into the wall was the exact _wrong_ thing to do. He might not be as good at analyzing situations as Ja'far, but even he could tell that the fallout from this was going to be _very bad _indeed. His supernatural hearing picked up the sounds of footsteps running towards his room, amplifying the feeling of foreboding; he should've known they weren't being quiet enough.

It didn't matter though; his metal vessel was halfway across the room, and there was a good chance Judal was going to kill him before he could get to it. The magi already had summoned his trademark ice shards above his head. Masrur braced himself for impact as they flew at him, but it never came. He moved his arms away from his eyes to see what had happened, but all he saw was pink.

Wait. That wasn't right. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the image never changed. Then it shifted, and he was able to tell that the bright pink color had been hair. Another shift, and he realized the owner of the pink hair had turned around and was now addressing him. He knew this scent; he'd first smelled it in Balbadd.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid our cute little Judal has been causing problems. I hope you'll forgive us." The young Kou princess bowed low before standing. Masrur caught the brief whiff of the sea as she returned her sword to a hairpin before stomping towards Judal.

"Kougyoku?! What are you doing here? Where's your keeper?"

She just jabbed her finger into his chest. "Kouen told me to keep an eye on you and make sure you didn't sneak away to Sindria. Again."

He cocked his head. "Kouen? But he likes war. That's why he's fun."

"Think, idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot, you old hag!"

"I'm not an old hag! I'm younger than you!"

"And still a virgin too probably."

"Why you –!"

Judal broke into hysterical laughter, his face flushing as he doubled over. Meanwhile, the princess was a brilliant shade of red as her mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish. It seemed an appropriate time for Ja'far and Sinbad to burst into the room only half dressed.

"Masrur!" Ja'far yelled, brandishing what appeared to be a candlestick holder in his hand. His headdress was gone, as was his robe and shirt. Sinbad wasn't far behind him, wearing only his shorts and carrying his bedside table, spilling lotions and god knows what else out the back. It was painfully obvious to Masrur what they had just been doing, especially since there wasn't a single metal vessel between the two of them.

"Airhead of the Seven Seas," he remarked passively to Sinbad once they were both fully inside the room.

"What?" The king pouted, having not noticed the two 'visitors' yet. Masrur could make out the thundering sounds – at least to his ears – of more people running to their aid. If they were anything like their king, then any help they had to offer was completely useless.

The reaction from the two already in Masrur's room was instantaneous.

"King Sinbad!" The princess turned an even darker shade of red and hid behind Judal.

"Sinbad the idiot!" Judal shook her off and sauntered up to the king, ignoring the daggers Ja'far was glaring at him. (He'd most likely left his real blades in Sinbad's room, after all.) "Have you come in to join us?"

"Judal?" Sinbad looked genuinely surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Well I _was_ going to sleep with your general, but he threw me against the wall a bit hard." Judal turned his attention back to Masrur, shooting a wink as he spoke. "Don't worry; I like it rough."

"What did you say about Masrur?" Ja'far growled, his eyes dangerous.

"I said I was going to fuck him. Why? You want a piece of him too? I'm sure you can if your king doesn't mind sharing. We all know _you_ don't."

"Watch your mouth." This time it was Sinbad who spoke.

"Or what? You stupid king: you don't even have your metal vessels on you! You're completely worthless, and so is everyone else in your household!"

"Judal!" The princess finally seemed to regain her composure. "S-sorry, King Sinbad," she said to his feet. "Please forgive Judal. He doesn't mean it."

"What are you talking about? Of course I mean it!"

But the princess, her face still resembling a lobster of the highest quality, simply grabbed Judal by his braid and dragged the spluttering magi after her. She gave one last bow, saying "sorry" again before they disappeared out the window.

The remaining six generals chose this moment to arrive. Masrur wasn't embarrassed by his own state of undress, but the same couldn't be said of Ja'far. He turned a light shade of pink, and Sinbad thrust the table into his chest before throwing his arms out so the room was mostly hidden from view. "Nothing to see here, go on back to your rooms."

Sharkkan yawned, rubbing his eye with the hand clutching his sword. "What's going on?" He looked like he was hardly wearing anything either. God, did anyone in Sindria sleep in their clothes?

"Don't worry; we just evicted an unwanted visitor." The man still looked unconvinced, despite the other generals grumbling and walking away to bed, so Sinbad threw his arm around his shoulder. "Like I said, Sinkkan: nothing to see."

Sharkkan wriggled his way free. "I thought Ja'far outlawed you calling us that."

"No. What _Sinfar_ did was make it illegal for me to change your names without your permission. He never made _nicknames_ – OW!"

Ja'far, clearly over his embarrassment, grabbed Sinbad by his ear and dragged him out of the room. "Go to bed Sharkkan, Masrur. I'll make sure this idiot gets in his without causing any more problems."

"I'm not an idiot!" Their voices faded as they disappeared down the hallway. "Sinfar, you're so mean."

"I told you to stop calling me that!"

When everyone was finally gone for good, Masrur shut his door and took stock of his room. It was a complete disaster; it seemed he would have to go back to finding new places to sleep from now on.

* * *

><p><em>Next chapter: Yunan<em>


	4. Yunan is most certainly not stoned

**AN:**_ So a couple things before I start. 1: I don't actually ship-ship Masrur with anyone (I broship him with people), so if you're here to see him fall in love and have consentual sex with someone then you are in the wrong fic, my friend. Turn back now. 2: You are not required to read xxxholic in order to understand this (because it's complicated, confusing, and not for everyone) but I do steal a couple characters from it and use them. The woman at the end of the chapter is Yuuko. All you need to know: Yuuko is the dimension witch who can cross dimensions (obviously) and grants wishes for an equivalent price, and Mokonas are creatures Yuuko created (with another magician who is unimportant to this story) that can transport others to different dimensions. If you do know holic/tsubasa, this takes place pre-canon._

_Headcanon used: Burnout Yunan (self explanitory)_

* * *

><p>Outside was the safest place to sleep, Masrur decided. The chances of someone else stumbling into his room with that stupid ad – if he ever found out who created it, there would be hell to pay – was too high for him to stay there, and he'd learned the hard way that moving from room to room within the palace didn't work either.<p>

On the far side of Sindria was a small forest that Masrur occasionally took naps in when he didn't want to attend meetings, and it was that same location where he now reclined against a tree for the night. He was far enough away from the city that the lights and music barely reached him, and Masrur found himself drifting pleasantly to sleep. He would've fallen asleep completely if his superhuman hearing hadn't picked up the soft sounds of footsteps coming his way.

Masrur's eyes flew open just in time to see a figure come into view. His eyes adjusted quickly to the light – a bright full moon – and he blinked a few times to be sure what he was seeing was correct. The man was wearing a strange green hat, which was only matched by his equally strange, equally green clothes. His long, blond hair was braided in an extremely girly fashion, and the only way Masrur was able to tell he was male was the fact that the man's shirt was practically hanging off his body, revealing a completely flat, male chest.

"Where am I?" The man asked, staring around himself with a confused expression.

Masrur considered not answering but thought that would be rude. "Sindria," he answered instead, completely unhelpfully.

The man jumped, visibly startled, and looked around until his eyes finally settled on Masrur. "When did you get here?"

Masrur thought that was an odd question, given that the man had addressed him in the first place. "I've been here the whole time. Weren't you talking to me?" Normally, he wasn't one to talk to strangers, but this man was so unusual that he did.

"Was I? I'm not sure." The man tapped his chin thoughtfully, staring upwards before looking again at Masrur. "I'm Yunan. Who are you?" He cocked his head to the side and stared at Masrur without blinking. It was a little disturbing.

"Masrur." The name Yunan sounded vaguely familiar; perhaps he was one of Sinbad's old friends.

Yunan cocked his head to the side. "You look familiar. I think I've seen you before, but with longer hair." Masrur wasn't sure how to react to that, so instead he sat very still as the man inched forward. Yunan managed to make it out of the shadow of the trees and into the light of the moon – where Masrur confirmed that the clothes he was wearing were, in fact, _very_ green – before he shrieked and jumped back into the shadows. "The light burns! It burns!"

Masrur blinked a few times before deciding he was dreaming. This man was so peculiar, that there was no way this was real. He pinched his arm and felt a slight pain, immediately dispelling that theory. Perhaps he was just drunk and lost. But, then, what kind of Sindrian wore such unusual hats?

"I know where I know you from!" The man suddenly exclaimed, pointing excitedly at Masrur, having apparently forgotten his earlier discomfort. "You're that new vessel of what's-her-face! Scheherazade! I must be in Reim!" He clapped his hands, clearly pleased by his revelation.

But Masrur distinctly remembered telling him earlier that they were in Sindria. Oh well; this Yunan character clearly could not be reasoned with.

"How did you like the dark continent? I did tell you, you wouldn't want to come back. Although, I guess you are back. How does that work? Wait. Am I still in the dark continent?" Masrur, completely unsure how this man knew he'd been to his old homeland, opened his mouth to ask, but was stopped by the sounds of a second person approaching. He turned his head in the direction Yunan had come from and nearly jumped up in surprise.

"Morgiana?"

The younger Fanalis blinked at him slowly, and Masrur noted that her hair had gotten longer. He pinched himself again, sure he was dreaming, because he distinctly remembered her leaving Sindria with Aladdin and Alibaba and the little prince from Kou. Again, the pain proved he was awake.

"Masrur? Weren't you in Sindria?" The girl seemed equally confused as him.

"This is Sindria."

She cocked her head to the side, staring at a point just above Masrur's head. "But if this were Sindria, then why is there an elephant floating behind you?"

Masrur spun around, but saw nothing. He looked back at Morgiana, frowning. "There isn't anything back there."

"Oh. I must be in Zagan's dungeon again."

"No, that's not right, Morgiana." Yunan spoke before Masrur had the chance. "Zagan was already captured, remember?"

She nodded. "Oh yeah. I was there."

"We're clearly in the Reim Empire." Yunan concluded.

"But then why is Masrur here?" She pointed at him.

Both of them turned to look at Masrur, regarding him silently. "Because he's the king's vessel for their magi."

Morgiana couldn't believe something as stupid as that; he was already a member of Sinbad's household. Why would he leave one country to become king of another? That didn't make any sense at all.

"That makes perfect sense," Morgiana said gravely.

What? No it didn't. Something was definitely wrong with her. "What did you do to her?" Masrur growled at Yunan. Morgiana was like a sister to him, and he'd never forgive anyone who harmed her.

"Hmmm?" Yunan didn't seem to be paying attention. Instead, he was picking a leaf off one of the trees and ripping it apart carefully. "Nothing. She came to my cottage and drank some of my homemade tea and ate my special brownies."

"You put something in them," Masrur accused. Morgiana was no longer paying attention to them, instead crouched down staring intently at a mushroom.

Yunan shook his head. "Nuh uh. It was my usual recipe." He waved his hand in the air and a plate of brownies appeared. "Want to try some?" Morgiana had picked up the mushroom and was now confessing her love of Alibaba to it.

"No thanks."

"Your loss." Yunan popped one into his mouth and the plate disappeared. He chewed it slowly, staring into the distance at nothing. "I miss my cottage," he declared after a few moments. And then, to Masrur's complete surprise, he waved his hand again – which the Fanalis just noticed was holding a wand – and created a tree _out of thin air_. Why the man felt the need to summon a tree when they were completely surrounded by them was beyond him, but Masrur didn't have time to question, because the next thing he knew the tree had split itself apart and was now _building a house in the middle of the forest_.

"Much better." Yunan decided. "Come on, Morigana; we're going inside. Bring your mushroom boyfriend." The girl grabbed the mushroom and ran through the door Yunan was holding open. Masrur stood up warily. He didn't _really_ want to go inside, but he felt it was his civic duty to make sure Morgiana didn't do anything stupid. "Oh are you coming too, King Masrur? Excellent, excellent." Masrur wasn't sure if he hated the name King Masrur or Sinrur more. Regardless, he followed the two inside.

The cottage was normal enough, he supposed. There was a kitchen and a fireplace and a staircase leading to a second floor. And then, of course, there was a table filled with food that Morgiana was now sitting at. She dug into a loaf of bread with vigor, as Masrur took a seat next to her.

He picked up a second loaf of bread and examined it. "Where did this come from?" He distinctly remembered Yunan summoning a single tree, and that in and of itself was strange, but what he found even more strange was that a single tree could create all of this.

"Well, it's not like I created it from nothing. Technically, that's not actually wood." He pointed at the wall of the cottage. "This world is full of so many different things. There are things you can touch with your hands, and things you can see. But there are also smaller beings, and the world takes shape because those tiny particles take each other's hands!" (1)

Now Masrur wasn't an expert in science or the ways of the world, but even he could tell that was complete nonsense. He turned to Morgiana to gauge her reaction but found her face down on the table, completely unconscious. It looked like he was on his own. The best response, he decided after a moment of thought, was none at all.

"Aren't I amazing?" Yunan prompted after several minutes of silence. Clearly no response was _not_ the best.

"You certainly have an…interesting way of looking at things." Masrur said tactfully.

Yunan clapped his hands, an expression of childish glee on his face. "Well if you think _that's_ exciting, wait till you hear this one." He floated up from his chair and perched on the mantle of the fireplace in a way that reminded Masrur strongly of Judal. "None of this" – he made a vague gesture with his arms – "is real."

There was a dramatic pause in which Masrur realized he was supposed to say something. "Ok…"

Yunan continued. "See there are these things called 'manga' in this other world, and they're like picture books, and we're all just two-dimensional, black-and-white characters in them!" Another dramatic pause. "None of us are real!"

The man was definitely on something, Masrur decided. Nothing he said from the moment they first met until now made any kind of sense at all. He wondered what sort of people Morgiana had run into on her adventures that forced her to seek shelter with someone so clearly off his rocker. "Ok," he said again instead of voicing his opinion.

"Isn't that interesting?!" Yunan flailed his arms around again, clearly expecting a better response than that.

"Sure."

The wishy-washy answer caused the grin on Yunan's face to fade. Clearly, that was not the right thing to say. "King Masrur, you're so mean!" The man waved his wand, and Masrur found himself lifted bodily out of his chair and thrown out the apparently open door. "You're just like Sinbad!" Yunan yelled just before the door slammed shut. Masrur stared wide-eyed as the cottage then lifted itself up out of the trees and flew away. He blinked several times, before realizing that he was lying in the exact same spot as he was before that strange man had appeared. He shook his head to clear it and hoped that Morgiana was going to be ok wherever she went, before trying once again to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Meanwhile in Sinpalace<strong>

Sinbad was drunk. Earlier in the evening a woman with long black hair wearing strange clothes had appeared in his room and demanded wine. Never one to turn down a beautiful woman, Sin had sent Ja'far to get wine and the strange snacks she requested. Spartos had reappeared with the wine instead, claiming the assassin was still hunting for the food. Sin was fairly certain Ja'far had just disappeared, but after the fourth bottle he stopped caring.

He had tried hitting on her several times already, but unlike any woman he'd ever met before, she seemed immune to his charms. He changed tactics, instead telling her about the most recent events in Sindria. She seemed especially amused by Sinbad's renaming of his generals.

"But then Ja'far – I mean Sinfar – had to go and make it illegal! I knew I would regret leaving the legal matters of the country to him."

She laughed. "What were their names again?"

Sin tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Let's see…there's Sinfar, Sinkkan, Sintos, Sinraiha, Sinti, Sinkon, Sinahoho and…uh…oh yeah! Sinrur."

She giggled into her glass again. "Sinrur, that sounds familiar. What's his real name?"

"Masrur." He couldn't believe he'd nearly forgotten his name. "He's been having a lot of issues lately."

"Ah." She had a strangely perceptive look on her face. "Like this?" She pulled a roll of paper out of her sleeve and showed it to Sinbad.

He grabbed it and read it, frowning. Just like the others he'd seen, it said: _for a good time: visit Masrur_. "Where did you find that?" He asked, handing it back to her where she tucked it back into her sleeve.

"Hanging on a post outside. It caught my eye."

"They've been appearing everywhere. I have no idea where they came from." Sin confessed. "Entertaining though. I heard they even made it as far as the Kou Empire. Shame it never got further." He narrowed his eyes, realizing this woman could've been a spy sent from Kouen or something; she'd never told him her name. "Where did you say you were from again?"

She didn't answer the question, instead changing the topic. "Is it your wish that this advertisement is shown in other lands, then?"

He thought a moment. "I suppose it is. Yeah."

"I will grant that wish, then. Your payment is the entertainment and your wine." It felt strangely like a business deal. The woman stood and walked towards the window. "I shall go prepare the Mokonas. It's fortunate you made that wish; I needed to test their abilities."

Sin thought he saw light gather around her, but it could've just been the wine. "Good coincidence, huh?"

"There is no such thing as coincidence in this world. There is only the inevitable," she said and vanished.

When Sinbad woke up the next morning, he was sure he had dreamed the whole thing.

* * *

><p><em>(1) Actual line from the actual manga (ch 205). If you don't think Yunan is stoned 100% of the time, then I don't know what manga you're reading.<em>

_Next chapter: Sharkkan and a surprise guest!_


	5. There are no filler chapters in this fic

_This filler chapter was necessary for reasons. This won't stop the real chapter from being posted tomorrow though; updates are Saturdays in case I forgot to mention it. There is also actually a song called six trillion years and a night. Just so you know. _

_**Warning: spoilers for ch 211**_

* * *

><p>Yunan wasn't sure where Morgiana had disappeared to. She'd first shown up to his house six trillion years and one night ago – or so it felt to him – and sometimes he lost track of her. He had absolutely no idea how, given the length of time she'd been with him, her hair had grown barely an inch. Maybe she cut it every day. That made sense. Of course, that would mean that she'd cut her hair 2190000000000001 times already. And that wasn't even including leap years.<p>

He was so focused on calculating the number of inches Morgiana had already cut, that he didn't notice the girl herself walk down his stairs until she was standing directly in front of him. "Mister Yunan," she asked, tugging on his sleeve like a child when he didn't respond.

"Morgiana?" He focused on her, confused. "When did you get here?"

"Just now. Do you have any food? I'm starving."

Yunan smiled that mysterious smile of his and summoned a plate of brownies into his hand. "Have another brownie. They're my special recipe."

She shook her head. "Your brownies just make me even hungrier. Do you have something…else?"

He thought for a second, before nodding and summoning an entire loaf of bread. She took it gratefully and disappeared again. Sometimes it was years before he saw her again. Kind of like Sinbad. The difference, Yunan noted, was that he actually liked Morgiana.

Then again, he used to like Sinbad too. Maybe she _was_ Sinbad. But then…that would mean Sinbad wasn't a person. Was Sinbad a person? He couldn't remember anymore.

The answer, of course, depended on if Morgiana was Sinbad, or if Sinbad was Morgiana. If Sinbad were Morgiana, then he wouldn't be a person; he'd be a Fanalis. But if Morgiana was Sinbad, then he should probably kick her out of his house before he did something mean like demand to have a conversation or something. It was vital that he figure out which was true. It rated as the top most important thing for him to do right now. It –

One of the walls in his cabin didn't look quite right. The wood seemed less…woody. Yunan squinted at it, trying to determine what had gone wrong. There, right in the corner, two of the tiny particles had stopped holding each other's hands. The magi glared at them. They looked at him sheepishly, then looked at each other and grasped hands again. There. Much better.

Yunan blinked, forgetting what he'd been thinking about before the particles had distracted him. Oh yeah…he was trying to figure out how Morgiana's hair hadn't grown in all the time she'd been with him…


	6. Masrur duels Sharkkan

_Happy Saturday! In case you're wondering, I'm not labelling this as a crossover, because you have to pick two universes, and I want them all. I have the next...7 crossover chapters planned, with hopefully a solely magi one between each, but if you have requests I can throw them in there too. Also this fic will end whenever me/the requester gets bored of it, which may be never. There is no plot. Just fyi._

* * *

><p>Strangely enough, the best place to hide from Sinbad and all the problems he caused was in a brothel. The king was known for his appetites, but being <em>king<em>, he never needed to leave his castle to satisfy them. And Ja'far, being Ja'far, never went into one by choice, so his chances of running into either of them was minimal.

The Madam running the place was confused when Masrur first showed up asking for a room where he could stay the night without any interruptions. She mentioned, politely of course, that this wasn't that kind of hotel, it was _that kind_ of hotel. The Fanalis stared at her unblinkingly, and dropped an entire bar of gold on the table between them. She'd jumped at the sound it made, but upon seeing how much he was offering – and that it was all real – she hadn't questioned him further.

It had been one of his more peaceful nights; the bed was comfortable, and the walls were thick enough that he could barely hear the lovemaking next door. He'd gotten a full night's sleep, and paid the woman another bar of gold the next morning with the condition that she keep that room empty for him to return that night. He returned with more gold and found the bed fluffed and adorned with newly cleaned sheets.

Aside from the nudity he had to witness to get to his room, Masrur had to admit this was a good idea. It wasn't exactly a secret that he wasn't interested in sex – he'd been propositioned by monarchs and their households aplenty – so no one would ever think to look for him here. He felt almost guilty about it when Sinbad and Ja'far got in another fight, and the shorter man started developing bags under his eyes. But one glance in the mirror revealed that _he_ didn't have bags under _his_ eyes, and the feeling of guilt disappeared completely.

There was, of course, one _minor_ detail he forgot when he made his plan. Sharrkan.

The swordsman was sitting in _his_ brothel the third night with his arm slung around three of the prostitutes. He tried to sneak past, but no matter what tactics he used, a giant, redheaded Fanalis was hard to miss. Sure enough…

"Masrur?!" He straightened up. Loathe though he was to admit it, Sharrkan was one of the few people he counted as friends. Ignoring him would be rude.

He turned around to face the bane of his existence.

"I _thought_ that was you. What are you doing here?" Sharrkan had, for some inexplicable reason, shaken off the girls and was now walking towards him. That couldn't be good.

Masrur grunted wordlessly in response, hoping that – for once – this would be enough to satisfy the other. It wasn't.

"I thought you weren't interested in the fairer sex. Or any sex really."

He wouldn't be able to get away with this without engaging in some form of conversation. "I'm not."

"Then what are you doing here?"

Vague descriptions couldn't be used with Sharrkan. He was going to have to use small words. "Going to sleep."

"Alone? Do you know where you are?"

"There's a bed upstairs with my name on it." Well not literally. Not yet. Give it a week.

Sharrkan raised his eyebrows. The expression on his face was more amused than Masrur deemed safe. "I don't think this is that kind of hotel, Masrur."

"You don't often think." Dammit. He could never really resist around the other.

Sharrkan's face contorted into the expression of mixed irritation, indignation, and amusement that Masrur enjoyed so much, and he settled himself back for the return blow.

"Why you –! You little –! You're a shit, you know that? Ja'far is always _oh be nice to Masrur, he's just your sweet and innocent junior_, but I tell you what. You are neither 'sweet' nor 'innocent', and you definitely bring this on yourself and – how dare you smirk at me, you insolent –! You know what? Duel me! You never duel me, you only ever duel Sinbad and _I am the sword master, why won't you play with me too_?!"

Masrur was smirking outright; this was the reason he pushed Sharrkan's buttons. He was so amusing when he was angry.

"Excuse me, sirs," the Madam was there in a moment. "If you're going to fight, can you do it somewhere else? You're disturbing my other customers."

It was clear from the way Sharrkan turned red and started stuttering apologies, that he'd forgotten where they were. Masrur let him deal with the woman, and instead walked upstairs. He'd barely made it halfway down the hallway to his room before Sharrkan was there.

"Hey! I am not done with you, you know!"

He thought he'd be able to make it into his room before the other was finished talking with the Madam. As usual, his luck ran dry whenever he wanted to sleep. Sharrkan slipped in the room behind him just before he closed the door. The sword master looked around in wonder. "Wow, they really did have a room ready for you." An evil grin spread across his face. "Hey are you hiding some secret lover in here or something?"

"Why aren't you with Yamraiha?" Masrur countered. His sex life – or lack thereof – was none of Sharrkan's business. Secret friend or not.

The other drew his sword. "You're so mean! I demand that you take that back right now! Come on. You have a sword somewhere."

Masrur bit back the retort asking _where_ Sharrkan thought he kept a sword, knowing that would backfire on him. "No," he said instead and turned his back.

Clearly that was a mistake. "Masruuuuuuuuuuur," Sharrkan whined. "Duel meeeeeee."

"Did someone say duel?"

Both men jumped and turned to the window, where the voice originated from. Standing there was a man wearing the strangest clothes he'd ever seen in his life. He was wearing a long, cloak-like thing that was definitely defying gravity, and his hair was cut shorter than even Alibaba's.

The guy glanced around the room with an air of boredom. "This isn't one of Pegasus' mind games is it?"

"Well this definitely isn't the Shadow Realm."

The two of them spun around at the new voice. Standing behind Sharrkan was a short boy with the most abnormal hair – was it even hair? Could something that…weird even be defined as hair?

Sharrkan was the first to find his voice. "Who the hell are you two?"

"I'm Seto fucking Kaiba you uncultured –"

"Kaiba!" The shorter boy looked offended. "I am so sorry. That's Kaiba, and you can just call me Yuugi." He smiled in a way that reminded Masrur of Aladdin. He sincerely hoped this one didn't have a strange fetish with boobs like the other one did.

"How did you even get in here?" Sharrkan asked.

"You should know; you're the one who brought us here, Egyptian." The one who called himself 'Kaiba' snorted. "And besides, your clothes are stupid."

Sharrkan looked offended. "Ex_cuse_ me? _My _clothes look weird? What are you wearing then? A bed sheet gone wrong?"

"At least _I'm_ not prancing around in a toga. This is modern day Japan, not some American fraternity's theme party."

"Are those even real words you're speaking? Clearly you're just some stuck up magician who thinks he's better than everyone else because you can read Tran."

"Go draw some birds on a wall; that's all you're good for anyway."

"Who even are you?!"

The argument continued, but Masrur drowned them out, instead staring at the starfish on top of the second boy's head. Yuugi seemed to notice him staring and scooted closer. "Your friend is baiting him, you know," he said, motioning to the two who were at each other's throats.

Masrur grunted in agreement.

"It's strange," the other continued, unprompted. "I was just arguing with Kaiba – he wanted to duel again, but I had to go home and help Grandpa with the shop – and suddenly he disappeared. There was this bubble that wrapped around him and then pop! He was gone. Where are we, anyway?" He looked around curiously.

"Sindria." He had no idea what the other was talking about, but one term struck a chord. "Did you say he wanted to duel you?"

"Yeah. He's always going on about it. 'Duel me Yuugi.' It's like his catch phrase now."

That was strange. Hadn't Sharrkan _just_ been harassing him about the same thing? "Why don't they just duel each other?"

Like all the bad luck in the world had conspired to come together and ruin any peace of mind Masrur could have. "What did you just say?"

"I don't think that means the same to Kaiba as it does to your friend," Yuugi whispered.

"That sounds like a great idea," Sharrkan declared, pulling out his sword. At the same time, Kaiba pulled out what looked like a deck of cards from his jacket. Oh this was going to end horribly.

"What are you planning to do with those?" Sharrkan scoffed. "Throw them at me?"

"It's worked for me before," Kaiba retorted.

"O-kay." Yuugi stepped in. "Kaiba, I tell you what; I'll duel you. It'll be fun. Probably."

"Does that mean you'll duel me too, Masrur?" Sharrkan looked so hopeful, like a tiny child on their birthday.

"No." Masrur, finally satisfied that no one was going to kill each other, defaulted to his normal method of dealing with this shit; he collapsed onto his bed. After a few moments, it became painfully clear no one was leaving.

"I left my duel disk back at Kaiba Corp."

"Yeah, mine is in my room at home."

Once again, Masrur had no idea what was going on. He closed his eyes hoping that _for once_ everyone would just disappear.

"We can just play on the floor, I guess."

"I refuse to sit on the floor like a commoner!"

"Why do you always have to say it like that?"

"You can always play on Masrur's back. He won't mind." The Fanalis could practically hear the smirk in Sharrkan's voice.

"He won't?"

"Of course not. I'm going to head out though, now. Have fun!" The door creaked open and closed. The next time Masrur ran into the other general, he was going to murder him.

It was silent for a few moments, but then Masrur heard the sounds of papers rustling. He hoped that whatever this game the two left were playing would be a silent one.

"I summon a monster in defense, place two cards face-down, and end my turn." Well, if they spoke that softly for the rest of it, then he had no issues.

Shockingly, feeling the cards being placed on his back was comforting, and the relatively level volume the two strangers spoke at lulled Masrur into a dreamless sleep. In all honesty, this was better than being harassed by horny kings or stoned magi.

"I SUMMON MY THREE BLUE EYES WHITE DRAGONS IN ATTACK MODE AND USE WHITE LIGHTING TO TAKE OUT YOUR DARK MAGICIAN!" A roar from above woke Masrur with a startle.

"You can't just summon a bunch of monsters in one turn, Kaiba!"

"Screw the rules!"

Masrur stood up, the cards that had been placed on his back fell in a heap on his bed. He towered over them, glaring menacingly at the two boys. The shorter one looked sufficiently terrified, but the other one seemed offended that his cards were scattered. "Get out," he growled at them.

The taller one's eyes narrowed. "What did you just say to me?"

"Come on, Kaiba." Yuugi tugged on his sleeve. "Let's go now. Ok?"

"I don't think so! What do –"

But whatever he'd been about to say was drowned out. Masrur stared in shock as the ceiling seemed to melt down to the floor, wrapping around the two boys and their cards. It bubbled around them before disappearing with a soft pop, taking them with it. Masrur glanced around the room, confused, but there was no evidence that anything had happened. He shook his head as if to clear it and looked out the window. Sunrise. He had maybe a few hours before he had to report to the palace. He collapsed on the bed, hoping he could get at least some sleep before Sharrkan came knocking on his door.

* * *

><p><strong>Earlier, in Magnostadt<strong>

Sphintus wasn't really sure _why_ he tried to talk to Aladdin. All he ever did was come back to the room, fall on his bed, and pass out. And yet every night, without fail, he would start telling Aladdin all about his home in Heliohapt, and every night, without fail, Aladdin would start snoring before he even got two words out.

Sphintus was complaining about it to his snake when it happened.

"I mean, really. He's the one who was all _let's be good friends_ and then he just ignores me when I want to talk to him. It's hypocritical, it is. And another thing –"

CRASH. Sphintus jumped off the bed and wandered over to the door, where something that sounded heavy had just run into it. He glanced back at Aladdin, who was still fast asleep, before opening the door.

An oddly dressed man who looked like he was from Heliohapt was lying on the other side, rubbing his butt. He stood up shakily, muttering to himself. "…Didn't have to banish me to wherever this place is, just because he was upset. Oh hello, who are you?" At the last, he looked up at Sphintus.

"Sphintus Carmen. Did you fall?" Despite the odd clothing, there was a good chance this was another magician from Heliohapt. Sphintus was sure he was the only one in Magnostadt, though.

"My blasted boyfriend must've banished me back to Egypt somehow. He's such a jerk. Now he's got me saying stupid things like 'blasted'." He looked around. "Is this Egypt? It's so hard to tell. I was in a tomb for most of my life, you know."

"Uh huh." Sphintus found he couldn't do anything except stare.

"I'm Malik by the way. The sexiest man you'll ever meet. Do you know where the nearest airport is?"

Dreaming. He had to be dreaming. "Airport?"

"You know, where planes fly from."

"Planes?"

"Oh you're hopeless. I'll just go find it myself. Do you have a cell phone? I need to call Bakura and tell him what a jerk he is. No, don't worry about it. I can tell by your confused expression that you don't even know what a cell phone is. Whatever. At least this trip was worth something; I was able to discover that I'm still the sexiest Egyptian out there. Bye man who is not as sexy or smart as me! May you someday find someone who looks half as good as me!"

Sphintus blinked at the man's back as he walked away. He was so confused. What had just happened? He stepped back in the room and closed the door. Somehow, and he wasn't sure how, this was entirely Aladdin's fault. He'd have to yell at him tomorrow.

In a small shop in another universe, Yuuko sipped her sake and laughed.


	7. No one ever tries to sleep with Masrur

**AN:** _Today is definitely still Saturday. Totally. Next chapter: Eren Jäger._

* * *

><p>Masrur was swiftly running out of places to sleep. His own room was clearly out, the forest had ended in disaster, and he wasn't even sure what happened in the brothel was real. Granted, Sharrkan harassed him about it the next day so it <em>had<em> to have happened, but that didn't make it any less weird. If it weren't for the sword master bothering him, he would've been certain it was a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation.

For whatever reason, Yamraiha forgave Sharrkan a few days later, and Masrur set about on what he thought was his best plan yet; stealing his room. If history was any indication – it was – then he had two or three nights of solid, uninterrupted sleep in Sharrkan's bed before he had to go hunt for a new room. They had this pattern; Sharrkan and Yamraiha would sleep together for a few nights, Sharrkan would say something to piss Yamraiha off, and then Sharrkan would be forced to return to his room for a few nights. The cycle had repeated itself since the former prince had turned nineteen, and it wasn't bound to change any time soon.

And that was why, three nights after the incident in the brothel, Masrur found himself stalking Sharrkan just to be _absolutely sure_ he would get his room that night. There were a few close calls, when the other man turned around to see who was following him, and Masrur had to jump behind pillars and try to blend into the castle walls. But otherwise he went undiscovered, which was impressive for a 195 cm, 105 kg Fanalis.

He waited outside Yamraiha's room for 10 minutes, just in case Sharrkan did something else stupid enough to make her angry, before practically skipping with joy to his room – which, of course, simply constituted him walking slightly faster with no more emotion. Finally, _finally_, he was going to get some sleep. If he weren't so determined to annoy Sharrkan he would hug him and tell him he was his best friend. Not that he was or anything.

Things went wrong the instant Masrur clicked the door shut. His nose picked up a smell that was similar to Aladdin, Judal, and that one crazy green man who kidnapped Morgiana, but he could tell it wasn't any of them. He turned around, bracing himself for battle, and found a short blonde girl staring at him. Her hair was so long it was dragging on the ground and she had this odd little half-moon staff in her hand. Based on what he knew from listening to Sinbad and Ja'far talk, she must be the fourth magi, Scheherazade.

"Hello," she said, smiling one of those all-knowing magi smiles they all seemed to have.

"Hi," he responded to not be rude. Last time he was rude to a magi it resulted in a tiny tornado destroying the armor in his room. And this wasn't even his room; he couldn't imagine how angry Sharrkan would be if he found out that Masrur was stealing his bed. Again.

"Masrur, right?"

"Are you looking for Sinbad?" This, after all, was his palace. (Sinpalace, as he had successfully named it despite every single general protesting the idiocy of that name.)

"No, I don't think so." He narrowed his eyes; this couldn't be good. "You are Masrur, correct?"

And then she unfurled a paper from her sleeve. Masrur didn't even need to look at it to know what it said. He instantly hated whoever had made the stupid ad without his consent. "That is wrong."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "So you're _not_ Masrur?"

"I am. The ad must be referring to a different one."

"Less than a hundred Fanalis left who aren't slaves, and you think there could be a _second_ Masrur?"

He didn't really like the way she was talking to him; it felt like he was being patronized by someone's mother. Not that he knew what that was like. "I'm not the one on the ad."

"Really? Then why is it when I do this" – she waved her hand over the paper, and it glowed strangely, revealing a map of Sindria and a tiny red dot placed exactly where he was right at that moment – "it leads me to you?"

Masrur simply blinked at the map. That was strange; it really _was_ leading to him. Who would do such a thing?

"Now then. This says you'll show me a good time, and I must say that I'm _dying_ for a good time. I have a king's candidate who looks just like you, but is completely worthless in bed, despite what he's packing."

This looked like it was bound to go about as well as when Judal broke into his room. Masrur backed away cautiously. If she were a magi just like Judal, then it was a bad idea to anger her. Scheherazade stepped closer, the creepy smile still bright on her face, and Masrur's back hit the wall.

Just then the door banged open. "What the – ?"

Masrur could honestly say he was never happier to hear Sharrkan speak in his life.

"What – ? How – ? Who – who are you?"

Scheherazade wasn't even fazed. "Have you come to join us? Good. More is always better."

"Huh? No! What? Masrur what the hell?" Masrur just blinked at him, hoping his blank expression would successfully convey his feelings. "Are you actually taking a strange woman into _my_ bed?! Only I can do that!"

"Are you going to join us or not?"

"No! I've had my fill for demanding women tonight, and you will _get out_!" Sharrkan yelled, and then to Masrur's amazement, shoved the magi away from him and out the window.

She floated there for a second. "You'll regret this sword master; I'm the best lay you'll ever have." Before he finally slammed the window in her face. Masrur could swear he heard her say something about "this is what clones were made for" before she flew away, but he wasn't sure.

Sharrkan spun around to him. "What the fuck did you think you were doing in my room?"

"Sleeping."

"This is my bed! In my room!" Clearly, Masrur hadn't stayed outside the door long enough. Somehow, Sharrkan had already managed to fuck it up again.

"You weren't supposed to be back yet."

He could actually feel the tension rolling off the other. "You're acting like this is my fault?"

Masrur was torn. On the one hand it was absolutely his fault that he ruined things with Yamraiha and was already back in his room, but on the other hand he had just saved Masrur from yet another incredibly uncomfortable situation. So instead he just stood there and blinked, hoping something would come along and take him to a place where he could sleep.

That wasn't quite what happened. "Sharrkan! Masrur! What's going – oh." As had become typical in Masrur's messed up life, Ja'far appeared right then. Masrur looked down at his own partially undressed self – how had that even happened? – and then over to Sharrkan's half-naked body. Oh. This looked…awkward.

"Sorry," Ja'far started backing out of the door, pushing the newly arrived Sinbad with him. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

Too late. Sinbad had already seen them. "Wow you get around, don't you Masrur?"

"Sin!" Ja'far yelled, but was ignored as the king pushed past him into the room. Masrur turned and watched as the gears worked in Sharrkan's head. It was almost worth all the sleep deprivation to see the reaction he was going to give.

"…What are you implying, Sinbad?" That tone was a _bit_ darker than he'd expected.

Sinbad didn't seem to notice though. "Nothing much. Just that you looked like you were about to sleep together if you know what I mean." Masrur saw Ja'far face-palm behind him. It was time to leave. He slipped past Sinbad, not bothering to pick up his armor – he didn't want to know what evil magic Scheherazade did to get it over where Sharrkan was standing – and slipped out the door with a nod to Ja'far. Behind him, he could hear the sword master's voice screeching about the unfairness of life in the room he wouldn't get to sleep in again.


End file.
